Chapter 4:
Present Day: Lassiter
The first thing Lassiter had noticed was the fact that he didn't recognize his own room. He found himself doubting whether or not he was even in his own room, or for that matter in his own house. But the layout told him yes, cause his closet was definitely where it belonged. His window that looked out into his backyard, and his conjoining bathroom definitely said "Carlton Lassiter's house", but surely that couldn't be. Cause Carlton Lassiter would never agree to something...like this.
He was thankful to see some recognizable items. His dresser was still where he had left it. But he found it now cluttered with odds and ends of colognes he'd never wear and the few hair products that he knows he wouldn't use. His TV was still resting where he had left it on top of his wardrobe that sat across from his bed. But the bed had been moved to the center of the room, instead of where he remembered leaving it pushed up against the wall. After all, it wasn't like anyone had been using the other side for quite some time now. His wardrobe had been moved as well. Most likely due to the television having no other place to rest. But the most drastic thing of all had to be the new color scheme of his room.
Now don't get him wrong, he had been thinking of maybe changing things up a bit. He was starting to grow hateful towards his own scheme of tan and white. But he was far from ready for the crimson color that met his eyes. The curtains, the wallpaper, the bed sheets. This was definitely not something he was ready for.
"Carlton?" The door to his room opened and a man peeked around it. Despite his anger at Spencer, he had allowed the other male to convince him to stay in bed. After all, this room didn't happen over night. He was definitely missing some days...months maybe? He was just pissed that Spencer refused to answer his questions. Like what the hell was going on? Why was Shawn in his house? And Better yet, why in the hell had Shawn been in his bed?!
Of course at the moment all of that was obsolete as the main question now was- "Who are you?" Lassiter furrowed his brows. "And why are you in my house?"
"Why, I'm your doctor." The man smiled as he straightened up moving into the room and over to the side of the bed where Lassiter resigned. He wore a stethoscope around his neck and he carried a small bag at his hip, but otherwise he didn't look like a doctor. For all Carlton knew this was some crazy man who liked to prod at people and call himself "Doc".
"I don't think so." Lassiter growled as he leaned away from the man. "Where are your papers?"
"Excuse me?"
"You know. Your...certification."
"I don't carry those around with me, Carlton." The doctor shook his head in confusion, like Lassiter had just asked for him to produce a rabbit from his bag. "Mr Spencer asked me to come over and-"
"What in the hell is going on here? Why did Spencer call you? Better yet, why are you guys in my house?" Lassiter tried to move out of the bed but the doctor put a halt to it.
"Carlton-"
"Do not. Call me Carlton." Lassiter snapped slapping the doctors hand off his arm. "It's Detective. Detective Lassiter." He snapped. This was outrageous. This was his house, why in the hell was he being treated like this? It was like Spencer was suddenly running the show. He was running Lassiter's life.
"Detective." The doctor corrected himself as he tried to calm Lassiter down. "Please, you've had amnesia for awhile. It's going to be confusing for a bit. I understand. But I'd like to do a checkup, now if you would just please allow me-"
"You can't be serious. I don't even know you." Lassiter snapped, still refusing to give into the strangers demands. He just wanted everyone out of his house. To just have a minute to take everything in.
"I assure you detective Lassiter. You know me very well. I have been your doctor for almost a year." Bullshit. That was utter bullshit. Lassiter would remember who his own doctor was, and this man surely wasn't him.
The doctor tried to pick his wrist up, but Lassiter only pulled away again, sending a glare at the man who obviously wasn't getting the hint.
"Carlton Lassiter!" Juliet's voice startled him. "If you don't let this man check you out. I will." Lassiter stiffened. He had a Vietnam flashback of Juliet practically bending him over his own patrol car when he refused to allow the woman to look at his abdomen. He had been in a struggle with a perp the day before, and his side had been bothering him since. Juliet had feared a broken rib, but he had insisted it was nothing and refused medical treatment. He had made some snide comment to turn down her offer to look at him again and she had finally snapped. Grabbing onto his wrist and quickly wrenching it behind his back, forcing Lassiter onto his patrol car until Juliet could effectively feel his rib cage. Which in general the experience was extremely painful. But in the end it had turned out to be a fractured rib. Regardless, he had no interest in a similar event occurring anytime soon.
He begrudgingly allowed the doctor to look him over. His pulse was taken, got the cold stethoscope to the chest and a flashlight to his eyes, it took the doctor a moment to complete the quick look over before he straightened up, flicking the flashlight into his pocket.
"Tell me, what's your name?" Oh for God's sakes.
"Carlton Lassiter."
"Job?"
"I'm the head detective of the Santa Barbara Police Division." He rolled his eyes, this was so stupid. Was it really necessary? He obviously knew who he was, he knew what his job was. Hell he even knew Spencer shouldn't be in his house. Why was it a necessity to make sure he knew who he was?
"And date?"
"I don't know, June 5th?" He was taking a wild guess. He had obviously had amnesia for a while, so probably about a month?
"It's November 15th, Carlton."
"What?! I've missed almost half a year?!"
"It's 2009, Lassie." Lassiter was shocked. It was already 2009? He had missed an entire year? No almost two! There was an entire year and a half gone of his life that he couldn't recall. Wasted time. What had he been doing? He blinked and finally turned to look towards the owner of that voice. Lassiter's attention finally brought to the source of his annoyance. Shawn Spencer. The one question that kept running around his head, that just kept shoving all the other questions out of the way like a fucking bulldozer. The one question that he just couldn't catch an answer for. Why in the hell was Shawn Spencer in his house?!
He turned a glare onto the male as he moved closer. A small smile on his face as he reached out a hand, like he was about to try and touch him. Something Lassiter was not about to allow.
"Spencer." The male was cut short, turning to look up at him, with a smile. "Get. Out." And then that smile was gone as a look of utter confusion crossed his face.
"But Lassie-"
"Get out Spencer!"
"Shawn, maybe you should-" Juliet was there to maneuver him towards the door. The one thing he could always count on his partner for, knowing just how to deal with the man. How to calm a situation and to give Lassiter the peace that he needed. Of course this wasn't much for "peace" when this strange doctor was standing beside him with his doll like smile, and Juliet soon back at his side.
"Do you remember everything from before?" Juliet finally spoke up as she rested a hand on Lassiter's arm.
"Yeah. I think." He muttered as he tried to recall the last things he could remember, before this...blackness. This just emptiness that filled what must have been the entire year and a half that he was missing. "I remember...getting a call. I responded...I don't remember what it was for. I just remember...a bang. Did I shoot someone?" He gave a questionable look towards Juliet.
She opened her mouth like she was going to respond, but after a moment bit her lip and averted her gaze, the doctor instead stepping in. "As much as I was made aware of your case, Detective, I've come to understand that you were shot in the head. You had some brain trauma and acquired amnesia from it. I came on about half way through your therapy and have been your doctor since."
"I was shot?" He turned from the doctor to give Juliet a confused look. Had he really been stupid enough to get shot? "How in the hell did I get shot?" Better yet, how had he survived?
"You...you jumped in front of a bullet." Now that. That sounded like something he would never do. There was no way that Lassiter was that stupid to-
"Was it for you?" Oh god, had his partner been in danger? That made sense. He'd definitely take a bullet for his partner. He gave Juliet a look of concern.
"I...wasn't there, Carlton. I-" She really didn't seem to want to say it. Maybe she was upset that she hadn't been there. That she had forced Lassiter to take a bullet with her negligence. "Shawn..." She was still struggling to seem to form the words she was looking for, but that one had been enough for Lassiter to put the pieces together.
"SPENCER?!" Lassiter snapped angrily. "Oh, no, no. I would never take a bullet for that idiot! I would have put it there myself before I'd ever take it."
"Oh, surely from what I've seen you're a very caring man, de-"
"Shut up! You shut up!" Lassiter was quick to point a finger at the man. This stranger was the last person he wanted telling him what kind of man he was. "I just-"
"I said shut up!" BANG.
Carlton let out a hiss as he reached up to grab at his head. The sound of the shot ringing in his ears like it had just been fired. "No, no. I remember it. The gun shot. But I didn't jump in front of it." Carlton was quick to recover. "Maybe the gun slipped, or he was a bad shot."
"Lassiter-"
"Look, I don't care what you say." Lassiter shook his head. "There is no way, I would give my life up for Spencer. It just doesn't happen." Lassiter waved his hand. "I'd sooner murder him."
"Lassiter. You did. You saved Shawn." Juliet tried to reason with him. "You were a hero. You took the bullet for him."
"Well when you put it that way." A smug smile pulled at Lassiter's lip a gave a coy look, brushing his finger across his nose at being called a hero.
Juliet bit her bottom lip. "Carlton." His partner held her hands out in front of her, almost like a precaution to the explosion she expected from the him. Mostly likely preparing to grab him in case he decided to take a course of action that would be greatly frowned upon the Santa Barbara law enforcement. Like she already knew how he was going to react. The smug look fell from his face. "For the past year...Shawn has been..."
"I've been taking care of you, Lassie." Spencer was back into the room, the door half open and his hand still on the handle, like he was ready to make a quick get away if need be. "I've been, like, your caretaker, man." He gave off a lopsided grin, a nervous laugh passing his lips as he tried pass the news off as a small joke. Which this was NOT. Lassiter was about to explode. About to scream, to tell them all to get out. Surely this was some joke. "And...maybe living with you."
"WHAT?!"
It had to be a joke.